Yesteryear
by thedeadpen
Summary: Murder isn't the only dark secret from Yuki's past, and one revelation may be too much for Shuichi to take. Will looking into his own past to deal with it bring up memories for Shuichi that may tear apart him, his relationship, and the man he loves?
1. Old Friend

I don't own Gravitation or any of the characters, just the plot.

* * *

Shuichi always felt awkward at these black tie events. It wasn't that he didn't like being Eiri's arm candy, he did, but he'd have felt more comfortable (and in his own opinion he'd look better) if he could wear something a little more _Shuichi_. The custom tailored tuxedo fit exactly as it was supposed to, his lover assured him every time he wore it, but it felt all wrong. It was much more constraining than a t-shirt, less flattering than his booty shorts, and less distinctive than his stage jackets.

He looked a few feet away to where Eiri was chatting cordially with someone Shuichi had probably been introduced to, but since this was a writerly affair he usually wasn't paying enough attention to remember faces and names. Eiri looked stunning in his tux, so good that it made Shuichi want to drag him into the bathroom and tear it off with his teeth. He would refrain, of course, but the vision proved conclusively that some people were meant to wear formal attire and some weren't. Shuichi was not meant for suits, and really he wasn't meant for all this schmoozing with this or that editor or publisher or literary genius.

"Shuichi." Eiri touching his arm made him fly out of his skin.

"What?"

Eiri reproached him with a glare. _Don't embarrass me._

That was their rule for going into public. Since they'd come out, everyone wanted to see them together as a couple, whether it was at album launches, book launches, their many combined press events, or high-end parties of music and publishing executives, like tonight's event. And no matter where they were, Eiri was always remind Shuichi not to embarrass him, as he was prone to do, especially when he was nervous and uncomfortable.

"I'm getting a drink. Do you want anything?"

_Yeah. To leave._

"No."

Eiri raised an eyebrow but shrugged and went to help himself. Shuichi would have loved a drink, but if he was supposed to stay in control, he also had to stay stone sober. Also, if Yuki got as smashed as he usually did at these affairs, Shuichi would be driving home.

He always wondered if Eiri didn't really want to be here either and knocked back booze to take the edge off, but he was always the perfect picture of polite and sociable, to a degree that sometimes frightened Shuichi, who still rarely saw him so kind in private. But he knew well enough that at least the charming smile was a mask. He was one of the few people who knew Yuki's real smile. He comforted himself with this as he wandered over to examine a flower arrangement in the corner, a little removed from the dancing suits exchanging endless greetings.

He felt someone come up behind him, and hoping it was Yuki he turned with a bright smile, wanting to at show him he was there for him and happy to be there because he felt guilty for sulking, but instead of his brilliant and beautiful lover he saw an attractive young man no bigger than himself and so pretty he'd have mistaken him for a woman if he hadn't been rocking the coolest tuxedo ensemble in the room. A jet black jacket, trimmed in silver, over a white t-shirt emblazoned with a skull and cross bones, and a dangling male pendant hung against his chest.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, cool and at ease, gazing at the flower arrangement that Shuichi had been pretending to be interested in, but his sly smile told Shuichi he knew he was being check out, and he didn't mind.

"I'm always amazed at how much money people are willing to fork over to rent out these huge banquet halls, get the best catering in town, gallons of alcohol, and then skim on the flowers by buying from the cheapest florist in town." The boy laughed to himself. His voice gave away how young he was, and his accent was Thai.

Shuichi looked back at the flowers. They looked fine to him. The kid was now sizing him up, and Shuichi shuddered to imagine what he must think of the stiff tux.

"Are you famous?"

"Uh..." Shuichi scrambled to think of how to answer without sounding like an asshole.

"You have a beautiful face." He took a step closer, and Shuichi had nowhere to move to unless he wanted to knock the flowers off the table behind him. "You could be in movies. Are you a movie star?"

Shuichi sighed in relief to himself. There was no recognition in the boy's eyes, he was just making a bold pass at an apparently single guy. Shuichi wondered how long he'd been in the country. He didn't want to flatter himself, but Bad Luck was still a pretty big deal.

"No, I'm-"

"Shuichi, there you are."

Yuki to the rescue! Shuichi squeezed his hand as he came over and claimed his territory, not giving the kid a second glance. The boy backed up a step, turning his stunning grin at Eiri, who returned a smile but just as quickly turned away towards Shuichi.

"I brought you a drink."

"That's sweet. Thank you." Shuichi took an uncomposed gulp of the cocktail, wondering if Yuki was wondering who the boy was and why they'd been standing so close together. As if to counteract any thoughts he might be having about the scene he's walked in on, Shuichi nuzzled into Eiri's side and was surprised that he was allowed to, at least until someone else approached their party.

"Andre, I have someone I want you to-" The boy turned immediately towards the voice of a tall man in a white suit, obviously American from his accent and curly blond hair.

"Eiri."

"Shane."

The man took in the scene, looking between Andre the boy, Eiri, and Shuichi.

"It's been a while," he said finally. Yuki nodded. Shuichi and Andre were painfully hanging on the tension that had blossomed when Shane entered the space.

"I've missed your business," Shane said smoothly. Andre perked up immediately, looking at Eiri with new eyes that made Shuichi want to pummel him. Eiri stiffened and pulled away an infantisimal distance.

"Another life," Eiri replied, slamming an iron door on the subject with the tone of his voice. Shane bowed his head slightly.

"And you must be Shuichi Shindou." Shane stuck out his hand and they exchanged introductions. He was a tabloid reader, Shuichi could tell from his voice. Those were the kind of people who addressed you with a certain smugness, because they "knew" all of the personal details of your life, even if they'd never met you. Andre was still standing by waiting, having not been introduced, while Shane tried to strike up a conversation about some recently published novel, but Eiri wasn't interested. He abruptly interrupted Shane and turned to Shuichi.

"Will you get me a double vodka tonic?" Shuichi, bewildered, nodded and walked towards the open bar, dying to know why Shane had also sent Andre away so that the two old acquaintances could talk in private.

At the bar, Andre leaned over beside him and ordered a margarita. While they waited he eyed Shuichi up and down.

"You're a little old. Who are you with?" His voice was low and confidential. Shuichi, already confused, was not in the mood for his private riddles.

"I'm with Eiri Yuki, and I'm old enough, kid."

"Hey, if that's what he likes. But I mean what agency?" Andre smiled and looked both ways down the bar to ensure they had relative privacy. "A guy's got to look out for number one, right? The American is a dick. I might be looking around. Know anyone I could talk to?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." What was taking so long with the drink?

"Aren't you on call?"

On call?

"No!"

Was he serious? Was he a call boy? Was Shane his pimp? Shuichi looked worriedly towards Yuki. What were they talking about?

_I've missed your business._

He was NOT having a three way with Andre. Unless Yuki wanted him alone. In which case he'd have to be there, he couldn't take it.

No. This wasn't negotiable. They weren't in an open relationship. Shuichi rounded on Andre.

"You'd better stay away from Eiri, you little tramp."

"Whoa, relax man. I don't go where I'm not wanted. I've got bills to pay."

Shuichi sneered. His only expEirince with prostitution was the vague recollection of Hiro once telling him that someone had offered to put him up in a fancy hotel for a week and pay him handsomely if he'd call him daddy. Hiro knocked the guy out when he wouldn't back off, but he said he'd have considered it if there hadn't been a gig coming up that they needed to rehearse for. Shuichi had tried to put it out of his mind. It was dirty, and the people who did it were dirty, and sneaky, and were trying to ruin his happy relationship.

"Oh, please. Don't get all high and mighty. We don't all get the fairy tale. I take what I can. No one else is looking out for me."

Shuichi didn't understand it. "How old are you?"

"Old enough." The bartender set down their drinks and they walked back to Yuki and Shane in silence, not looking at each other.

They had obviously missed something big, and they returned to an icy silence covered by thin smiles.

"Andre, I want to introduce you to someone. Come along." Without taking his eyes off Yuki, Shane grabbed the young man's shoulder and steered him away.

Shuichi handed Yuki his drink and he knocked it back in under a minute, but it was the most uncomfortable minute Shuichi had ever expEirinced. He crossed his arms and shifted from one foot to the other.

Eiri seemed like he was going to fall into a moody silence. He set his drink on the table beside the flower arrangement and leaned against the wall. From the slight flare of his nostrils Shuichi could tell he wanted nothing more than to smoke a cigarette and lay on the couch.

"Do you want to go?" Eiri closed his eyes briefly. Shuichi reigned in all of his questions, anger, frustration, and worry.

"Yeah. Let me say a few goodbyes. I'll meet you outside."

Shuichi was more than happy to leave the banquet hall. On his way out he spotted Andre chatting up an elderly businessman with Shane nowhere in sight. He shivered and quickened his pace out.

The valet had already brought the car up when Eiri came out.

"I'm driving." Eiri took the keys from him and they traveled home in silence, Yuki's mind too clouded for conversation and Shuichi too scared to ask what he was thinking about. From the rate at which he was smoking, though, whatever was bothering him would come out before the night was over and before either of them could have peace again.

When they got home Shuichi's first act was normally stripping out of his tux, which was usually followed by a fun romp, but instead he slid off his shoes at the door and curled up in an arm chair, only bothering to loosen his tie. Yuki took off his jacket and sprawled on the couch, staring at a trail of smoke curling towards the ceiling.

He should at least have the decency to start the conversation, Shuichi thought. Four cigarettes later Shuichi got up and walked into the kitchen, half of him wanting a beer and half of him wanting to find something sharp to take back into the other room and stab Eiri with.

"Get me a beer, Shuichi." He pretended not to hear and came back into the living room sipping on his own bottle.

"I asked you to get me something to drink."

"You know what? I asked you to love and honor me," Shuichi exploded.

"What?"

"You heard me." Shuichi was on his feet, the beer bottle trembling in his hand. Eiri sat up and laid his cigarette in the ash tray.

"Look-"

"I think I've seen all I need to see." He had no idea what he was talking about, but he was upset and he wasn't going to sit here in silence until Yuki decided he was ready to talk. They'd decided they weren't going to do that anymore.

"Calm down."

"No." He hardly ever said no to Yuki. And this was a big no, a refusal of everything that had happened that night, from being dragged there in his stupid tux to Andre to Shane to Yuki clamming up again.

"Tell me what happened back there. Who was that? How do you know him? What did he want? And why don't you want me to know about it?"

Eiri cracked his knuckles. "Fine. Sit down." He sat immediately.

"Well, like he said, his name is Shane Baker. I met him while I was in America." From the way he said it, Shuichi knew he meant when he was in America dealing with his ghosts of Kitazawa. "He came to Japan shortly after I returned and set up business." Shuichi already knew what business he was talking about.

"He knew more about me than most people here did at the time. He called me and made me an offer. I accepted it. He dealt exclusively in young men, and it looks like he's still in the same business."

Shuichi didn't tell him about Andre asking for the hook up with another employer. He was stunned and sickened by Eiri's cool tone.

"For a few years I called him every few months, whenever I got tired of wining and dining socialites. But it got old, and it wasn't what I wanted, so I stopped calling him. That was a long time ago. Tonight's meeting was chance. I'm surprised I've avoided running into him for so long, but it was inevitable. He tried to renew our arrangement, I made it clear to him that I'm no longer interested in his services and that he's not to approach either of us again, and he knows better than to talk to the wrong people. His business depends on discretion. That's it."

_That's it_? The love of his life was a pervert, probably a child molester, and he thought that was no big deal? Andre was probably an imported sex slave, most of the boys were, Shuichi was sure. He'd read about things like this. There was a lot of money in sex trafficking, and Eiri had been feeding the system for years.

Not only that, but the foundation of their relationship was shattered by his revelation. Shuichi knew he wasn't Eiri's first man, but he did think he was on a short list. Yuki knew all along that he was gay. No one pays to sleep with men when they don't like it.

He felt sick. He put his beer on the table and walked out of the room. He heard Yuki following him, and when he got to the hallway he made a run for the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind him. He heard Eiri smash into it a minute later and jumped, tears springing to his eyes.

Eiri didn't try to force his way in, and Shuichi chided himself, even with his frazzled mind. Eiri had never physically threatened him. He had no reason to be afraid of him, no reason to cower in the bathroom, crying like a baby. But when he saw him sitting on the couch, telling his story so emotionlessly, he felt like he didn't even know the man talking to him.

Shuichi leaned over the toilet bowl and his eyes watered quicker as the beer, the cocktails, and the last bits of his dinner came up. His insides heaved again and again until he was completely spent. His throat and nose burned and his eyes bled his pain all down the front of his dress shirt. He eventually curled up in the tub and let his body release wave after wave of emotion until he was carried away into darkness.

* * *

I'm sorry that I've been away for so long! I'll try to update this one soon, and make sure I finish it, too. Thanks for reading.

* * *


	2. End of a Fairy Tale

I don't own Gravitation or any of the characters, just the plot.

* * *

When he woke up, Shuichi had a stiff neck and sore legs. He could feel his eyes swollen behind his eyelids that didn't want to open. The porcelin tub had warmed up with his body curled inside, and it seemed more welcoming than he imagined Yuki would be. He wasn't sure he wanted to be welcomed, though. He didn't know wanted—to have dreamed all of last night? But he was still wearing his now-wrinkled tuxedo and could vividly recalled all the details of his conversation with Andre and the looks passing between Shane and Eiri. All of it was painfully real.

He hoisted himself out of the tub and sat on the rim. He reached over and mechanically flushed the toilet, still full of the previous night's sick, and bit his lip when he realized Eiri would know he was awake. He probably had to use the bathroom. They had another one, but this was the one he liked to use. He said it gave him privacy. And the bathroom attached to the bedroom had slowly been taken over by Shuichi's hair products and face creams (we aren't all natural beauties, he sometimes joked when Yuki complained) so that it was more convenient for Eiri to walk next door and do his business.

Well let him be inconvenienced, Shuichi thought, his anger flaring up.

He moved to the sink and spent some time doing damage control on his puffy face, running the cold water as quietly as he could. He brushed his teeth with a dab of Eiri's toothpaste and his finger, some irrational part of him not even wanting to share the intimacy of a toothbrush. When he was done he still looked like crap, but slightly less disgusting crap. He stripped off the jacket and dress shirt and removed his shoes and socks. He picked absently at a pimple on his left shoulder.

_You're a little old._

He mentally berated himself. Was this all a little tantrum because he was suddenly insecure about his place in Yuki's life, in his heart? He hoped not. He didn't know.

After a deep breath he unlocked the door and stepped into the hall. The wood floor was cold on his bare feet. He walked as quietly as he could. The bedroom door was open and the bed wasn't slept in. He laid his things out and changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Yuki's tux was hanging in the dry cleaning bag on the back of the door. What had he done last night? Was he worried, pissed off, sorry?

What was there to be sorry about? Not telling him? Shuichi shook his head.

"I don't know, dammit," he whispered.

His body yearned to sink into the bed, hide under the covered. But his stomach, amazingly, spoke up against such a plan. The appetite of the young, Yuki called it.

He crept out of the bedroom, his heart speeding up and his feet slowing down as he got closer to the living room. He expected to find Eiri brooding on the couch. No. The door to his office was open on the other side of the house, so he wasn't working. Not in the kitchen. He was gone.

Shuichi slumped into a chair, staring at the microwave clock. It was 7 a.m., why would he be gone so early? And on a Saturday? Weekends were for resting, and for spending time together when they weren't on tour.

"You asshole." He felt tears welling up again and fought them, punching the table.

The front door slammed and he jumped up, then immediately sat down and wiped his face. Eiri walked in a moment later and hesitated upon seeing him.

Something ugly roared inside Shuichi. "Where were you?" he fired.

"The coffee pot's broken, so I went to get breakfast."

Indeed, he was carrying a cup of coffee and a bakery bag.

The coffee pot was broken? How could that be? Sure, it was ancient, but things like that don't happen right after things like last night. At least, they shouldn't.

Shuichi backed down as suddenly as he'd risen and stared at the floor. Yuki plunked his bag down and pulled out a bottle of orange juice and two muffins, muttering something about not knowing if he were hungry.

For a minute Shuichi thought he'd sit down at the table and they'd be forced to talk or suffer unbearable silence, but Eiri grabbed his muffin and headed out after puttering around behind Shuichi in the fridge for several minutes. His office door clicked shut and Shuichi's stomach demanded he eat the muffin now before Eiri came back. He vowed that he was not accepting a peace offering, however. Breakfast would not solve their problems.

Shuichi couldn't figure out what to do with himself. He didn't want to watch television or play music because he didn't want to draw Eiri out of his office, but there was no one to hang out with or talk to. A couple of times he ventured close to the office door and heard nothing, not even typing, and he burned with curiosity at what Yuki was doing locked in there. He didn't come out to throw away his trash or to get lunch. When it started to get dark and Shuichi was sure he'd have to come out to go to the bathroom or get something more to eat than the muffin, he panic and called Hiro.

"Hey buddy, what's up?"

"Are you busy?"

"Not really. Is Eiri on a date tonight?" he joked.

"Can you come pick me up?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks. And hurry."

Shuichi stood in the driveway and waited for his friend to pull up. It was dark, and chilly, but he didn't want to go back inside to get a jacket. When Hiro pulled up he didn't ask why Shuichi was shivering outside while Yuki's car sat in the driveway and there were still lights on in the house.

"Get on. Have you eaten? I ordered pizza."

Shuichi climbed on and they rode to Hiro's place in silence. Neither one of them acknowledged Shuichi's crying into Hiro's back on the ride over. When they got there he blamed the wind for his watery eyes and said he was starving, so they went straight up to his apartment and ate.

Shuichi had turned on the radio so they didn't have to talk to fill the silence. When he was on the last piece of pizza he nibbled like a rabbit.

"If you're not hungry, I'll eat it," Hiro offered, and he handed the slice over with a sigh. He was overly full, and now he was wondering if Hiro would want to know why they were hanging out on a Saturday night.

Shuichi thought he might head him off by starting the conversation. "So did Suguru have a test to study for or something? I was surprised you were available."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? He's at some convention. I begged the weekend off. He's more than enough for me to handle, if I had to spend three days with a couple hundred weirdo dorks I'd have to jump off a building."

Even in the throes of his own relationship problems, Shuichi thought his bandmates were adorable. _Weirdo dork_ had such an affectionate ring when Hiro said it.

Shuichi gave a mighty sniffle and asked if Hiro had anything to drink. He fetched a bottle of sake and a couple of glasses and they talked about music and the weather for a while. Then Hiro railroaded him.

"Okay, don't take this the wrong way, I love having you around to split the cost of dinner and all, but do you want to tell me why you can't make it through more than ten minutes of conversation without being on the verge of a breakdown?"

"Noooo," Shuichi said, crying by the end of the word.

"Okay. Come on. Tell me all about it." Hiro crawled over and let his friend slump against his shoulder as he alternated crying and telling him about everything that had happened since last night. When he was done he just cried for a while, and then they sat there silently while a lone saxophonist wailed out a tune through the speakers.

"Shuichi."

"Hm?"

"I don't get it. Why are you so angry at him?"

"I don't know. He should have told me."

"He did tell you."

"Yeah, after he had to. I just—that Andre kid is just—a kid. And Yuki was lying to me. He said he wasn't gay. He still says it. And..." He mumbled something that Hiro couldn't even make out from a foot away.

"What?"

"What if that's how he sees me? What if I'm some...toy or something? What if I get too old, or get fat, or go bald? Is he going to swap me for another kid?"

Hiro pulled away, leaving Shuichi's head hanging in the air. He fell over onto his elbow and looked up angrily.

"You've got to be kidding me. He was our age when he was doing it, wasn't he? And were you a kid when you hooked up with him? Believe me, those boys know what they're getting in to. It's a crappy system, but there are a lot of sickos out there who don't get their rocks off any other way. At least he got out of it."

"You don't understand, Hiro. It feels like...he cheated on me. It just hurt." He clutched at his chest to show his pain.

"Don't be ridiculous, he didn't even know you. If you're really still so insecure about how he feels about you, maybe it's better than things ended this way."

"Things aren't ending. I'm just confused."

"Okay, I'll break it down for you. You, innocent little Shuichi, have never been with anyone but Yuki. And you thought Yuki hadn't been with any men but you. Now you think that you have competition. He's not sleeping around, so calm down. You relationship's not going on a couple of months, it's going on three years, and you're not the freshest piece of meat out there anymore. Obviously something else is keeping him around. He could have called up his friend any time, but did he? No. He already found what he wanted, and it's you. Now get over the little soap opera in your head and get back to being in a loving, committed relationship with the man you love."

"How?"

"I don't know. Talk to him. You two are going to have to figure it out. I'm sure he'd like to know why you're acting like such a nut. You really slept in the bathtub?"

"Yeah. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Well, I hope you've seen the error of your ways. Cheers to realizing we're assholes."

Shuichi frowned but toasted with his friend. They polished off the bottle and Hiro went to get another. While he was gone Shuichi looked around the room. It was emptied than the last time he'd been here. Suguru's keyboard wasn't in the corner, and his schoolbooks weren't on bookshelf. That was odd.

When Hiro came back in with the sake he noticed Shuichi looking and asked if there was anything else he wanted.

"No, I'm fine. Are you okay? Did something happen with Suguru?"

Hiro was made of tougher stuff than Shuichi. His smile was flawless, his eyes didn't water, only a little muscle in his neck twitched.

"No, he just decided he wanted some space, wanted to try new things. We're still seeing each other, just not as often." His laughter was dry.

"Hiro, I'm sorry. I-"

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine. It's been a few weeks, it's been no big deal." Hiro had spent the last few weekends here alone? He hadn't even called. Shuichi wanted to kick himself. He'd been so busy living his fairy tale that he hadn't even been making sure his friends were still okay. He assumed everything was as happy as it had been for him.

"Here, drink up. Don't look so glum. You're about to reconcile with Yuki." They toasted again, and again, and a few more times. Two bottles later Hiro was sleeping with his head under the coffee table and Shuichi was cleaning up the pizza boxes and wondering if he should call Yuki so late to let him know he didn't have a ride home. He didn't know that he wasn't mad, not really, just sad, and still hurt. He didn't know how to say that all over the phone. He decided to leave it until morning when Hiro would take him home.

* * *

Next one on the way. Sorry to say that the problems will not be solved in chapter 3.


	3. Unknown Home

I don't own Gravitation or any of the characters, just the plot.

* * *

Shuichi spent most of the night awake planning what he'd say to Yuki the next day. His emotions oscillated from betrayed to ashamed to bewildered. He knew Hiro was right, his own insecurities were at the heart of his freak out after the party, and he knew he that Yuki wasn't to blame.

And that kid. Shuichi kept seeing his face, the confidence of his approach, the bold invitation. It went against everything he thought love should be. His heart died a little at the thought of sex for money. He loved sex,whether they did it because they were horny or angry or were making up, but it was because he loved the person he was having sex with. Anything else just seemed wrong. He knew even Yuki would laugh at this, obiously recent events had brought that to light, but it was how he felt.

He didn't want to lecture his lover, though. He tried to organize his thoughts and prepare himself to confront Yuki when he got home and get out everything he wanted to say. He took a piece of paper out of one of Hiro's notebooks and write down his main talking points to help him focus, and he cried again as he did it but worked with his blurry eyes and trembling hand.

He tried to memorize what he wrote down and kept putting the paper in his pocket, but then he would forget something and have to take it out and study it again. His body, he knew, was working against him, without sleep and with the hang over effects of the alcohol. When the sun peaked in through the window he was ready to collapse from exhaustion and his rising panic, but he also wanted to puke, jump around, and scream out loud. He settled for listening to their old songs Hiro's iPod and humming along to calm his nerves while he folded and unfolded his notebook paper. The second his friend stirred he pounced on him and begged to be taken home.

"Alright," Hiro said, rubbing his eyes and stretching as he stood up. "Let me brush my teeth and we'll go, okay?"

Shuichi put his notes back in his pocket and tried to fix his hair with his hands. It felt like any other fight they'd had—he would always run himself ragged with emotion and come crawling back just to regain peace of mind. Once again, he was ready to call things off, but this wasn't like any other time.

"You ready?" Hiro came out of the bathroom and Shuichi was standing at the front door. "Okay, then. Let's go." Hiro put on his shoes and they walked out to his parked bike together.

"Thanks for cleaning up a little," Hiro said. "It's pretty empty, but it looks good."

"Hiro." Shuichi stopped before climbing on to the bike behind his friend. "I'm sorry I didn't know about Suguru. I hope things work out."

Hiro smiled. "Thanks."

Hiro dropped him off in front of the house. The car was still there, so Yuki wasn't out getting coffee again like Shuichi had hoped. He stood in front of the door, not sure if he should knock or if the door would be open. He realized that he didn't have his key. For a petrified second he thought all of his preparation might have been for nothing, because Yuki locked the door every night, and after the way he disappeared he'd have had twice as much reason to have locked it. When he walked out of his office last night and didn't find him, then saw the house key on the dresser where Shuichi always left it, he'd have ran to the door and bolted it. Yuki might even be sitting on the other side, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer and waiting for Shuichi to pound and yell and beg to be let back in, just so that he could sit there and pretend to be sleeping or working and not hear, or not care.

Shuichi felt himself drowning in his rising panic and grabbed the handle, which gave easily under his sweating palm. He stepped inside quickly so it wouldn't seem like he was stalling, but almost ran out again when he saw Yuki sitting on the couch, still in the clothes he'd worn yesterday, a mound of cigarettes overflowing the ashtray beside an enormous take away coffee cup. If only Hiro would have woken up earlier! Shuichi could have been the one sitting there waiting.

He felt like he was walking unwelcome into someone else's house. Yuki's face was stony. He put out his cigarette when Shuichi came in. This was the face off, and Shuichi was terrible at confrontation. All of his plans flew from his head and he wanted to go lock himself in the bathroom again, away from the hurt and anger in Yuki's gaze.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I was with Hiro," he whispered.

"And Hiro's phone is broken?"

"No." Shuichi spoke to the ground. He should have called. He didn't call on purpose. He was a coward, and he couldn't do this.

"Jesus, Shuichi." He knew Yuki had been worried. The butts of many of the cigarettes had angry bite marks on them, a habit Yuki had when he was extremely stressed. He was no longer a house guest, and they weren't casual sexual partners. Shuichi bit his lip. He'd only been thinking about Yuki yelling at him if he called, telling him not to come home again, not about how Yuki would react when he didn't come home.

"Sorry. We lost track of time."

"I'm sure you told him your whole sad story," Yuki said. "I hope he told you how stupid you're being." Shuichi took a deep breath. There'd been a reason why he didn't come home, and he was going to explain himself. His lover's icy tone made it easier to steel himself, too.

"Well, excuse me. I guess that makes two of us who are stupid. How was I supposed to feel? You lied to me."

"About what?"

"About who you are!" Shuichi took a ragged breath. He'd skipped two talking points. That wasn't what he'd wanted to say. It was something, though, and he was about to plow ahead and try to make himself clear, but Yuki stood up and took a step towards him, his laughter advancing before him like a sharp weapon.

"You can accept that I killed someone but not that I've slept with other men?"

_No. _Shuichi pulled back, his face flushed and stinging from the force of the words. It hurt, and it had hurt Yuki to say it, to bring Kitazawa up so casually. Yuki's widen eyes gave him away—he hadn't meant to say it. But he unlike Shuichi, he drilled forward. He was angry, and that made him vicious.

"Or is it that I paid them? Do you feel like you're getting the short end of the stick here? Please, let me know if there's something more you want from me, something more I could possibly give you."

Shuichi was silent. That wasn't it. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He wanted to wave his notes in Yuki's face, to explain that he wanted to do this without fighting. He braced himself for what he expected was the point where Yuki would tell him to leave if he was so unhappy, but Yuki's next words lost their cod edge as he spoke them.

"I can't defend myself against your imagination, Shuichi. What do you want me to say? I'm sorry? I won't do it again? I love you? What?"

"Just—listen. You don't need to say anything. When we first—I had no idea what was going on when I met you. You were my first. 'This doesn't mean I love you.' I never forget that. But I loved you, from the very first time. And I know you love me, but I thought—I don't know, maybe if you didn't love any of them, if they were a phase when you were getting over what happened, then maybe I was part of that phase, too, and maybe you didn't really love me, either."

Shuichi took a steadying breath and prayed he would hold out to finish this.

"I know you do, though. I love you too. Maybe I love you too much. I don't know if this makes sense, but I never made room to love both of us, or I never made room for other people. Kitazawa, Seguchi, Aizawa, then this-" Shuichi caught his breath. He was losing it. Yuki standing so close to him, and completely unguarded, completely ready to take him in his arms and comfort him, and Shuichi wanted to give in so much he ached.

"I—I have to go, Yuki. This isn't about what happened Friday, I can't blame you for that." Shuichi tried to smile. His one chance was gone. Now he had only had one way to go. "I came back to get some of my things. I'm going to stay with friends for a while. I've got to figure some things out. I didn't realize how much you've been protecting me from everything since we met. I never really grew up, and I didn't want to. But it's not fair to either of us. So I want to spend some time working on that, and I can't do it while I'm here. I hope you'll be able to understand."

Yuki, who had been an adult since the age of seven, didn't understand.

"Did Hiro help you figure this plan out?" Yuki said quietly.

Shuichi shook his head. "No. I finally made a choice by myself, for myself. I know it seems like I'm being really selfish right now, but I think you didn't tell me because you thought I couldn't handle it, and I didn't handle it well. I want to be able to be a stronger person, for both of us. I don't know how else to do it."

_Stay here. Grow here._ Yuki wanted to scream it, but he wouldn't. He sat back down and lit another cigarette.

"Fine. Take whatever you want. I won't stop you."

"Thank you."

Shuichi called a cab when he got to the bedroom. He wiped a few tears away as he put all of his money and his things from the bathroom into his backpack and packed a gym bag full of clothes, and last of all placing a framed picture of Yuki from his bedside on top. He left his key on the dresser. When he returned to the living room Yuki was sipping his coffee.

"This isn't goodbye. I'll call you. And I'll be back."

"Just call when you want to pick the rest of your things up. I won't store them forever."

In the short time it took him to pack two bags, Eiri had rebuilt the walls it had taken Shuichi years to tear down. It broke his heart, and almost broke his resolve. Then he heard his cab honk from the driveway.

Shuichi hoisted his bags and pulled the door closed behind him without looking back at Yuki. He didn't have the strength to say goodbye. Outside he turned to look at the house that had brought him so much, and thought of the man inside who loved him so much.

"Wait for me, Yuki. I'll come back as soon as I can."

He got in the cab and gave the driver the address of an acquaintance, another musician who had an empty couch that he was willing to spare, at least for a few nights. If he still hadn't found himself after that, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He didn't want to drag Hiro or Mika or anyone else into the mess he'd made, he just hoped it wouldn't take that long to straighten things out.

* * *

Sorry to leave you in suspense. Chapter 4 is on the way, but reviews do remind me to update.


	4. Bad Luck Boys

I don't own Gravitation or any of the characters, just the plot.

* * *

Shuichi spent his first night officially away from home as sleepless as the night before at Hiro's. Tashimi was playing in the bedroom past midnight, frequently coming to ask Shuichi if he was sure the guitar wasn't too loud. Shuichi told him is wasn't the first two times and them pretended to be asleep, though it would have been impossible. If he wasn't afraid of upsetting his host he'd have gone in and given him some tips to improve his sound, like tuning his instrument and learning how to properly finger.

He also considered moving to the floor, which would probably be more comfortable than the lumpy couch that smelled like takeout and beer, but that wasn't appropriate, either. He lay there with his back to the room, unable to think above the music and hoping he's also drift off when Tashimi got tired and went to bed. However, when the music finally ended, Shuichi's brain seemed to wake up from its numb state, and he couldn't shut it off, even as he pressed his eyes shut and tried to take deep, sleep-like breaths.

His mind whirled so quickly between thoughts for a while that he couldn't even tell what he was thinking, but when it settled down Shuichi found himself thinking about the old days, the beginning of their relationship. It was a long time ago. In a lot of ways it was a different Shuichi and even a different Yuki that made the memories of those crazy first months. It seemed like everything that happened had been high drama, life or death, mostly because Shuichi had been going a mile a minute, running on emotion with hardly a thought in his head.

He still didn't know how he'd come through it with Yuki still beside him. A whiny kid begging for his attention and affection, the antics of Shuichi's manager and band mates, the strong resistance from Yuki's family, and the threat of career ruin for both of them if they were discovered. Of course, most of these things ended up working to their advantage. It really did seem like they were enchanted, facing so much opposition. The first real test of their relationship, Aizawa's assault, Yuki came through with flying colors.

Awhile afterwards, after Yuki and Tohma had settled up with the ASK front man and things had settled down, after Shuichi could feel Yuki's touch without flashing back, his lover asked why Shuichi didn't come straight to him. It hadn't occurred to Shuichi until then that Yuki had suffered anything, and might have wanted his support, too, and had wanted to support him. Shuichi knew then that he would never leave Yuki. He might be pushed away or kicked out, but nothing Yuki could do would make Shuichi stop loving him, or convince him that Yuki didn't love him.

Yet here he was on Tashimi's uncomfortable couch. A part of him still thought he could run back and beg forgiveness and sleep in the warmth of Yuki's arms, and that part wanted to. His new thoughtfulness about Yuki wouldn't let him pretend he hadn't hurt the person he cared most about by walking out on him, and he knew he hadn't presented a clear case about the reason for his actions because he still wasn't entirely sure himself.

When he was with Yuki he didn't have to think about the past, didn't have to worry about his own demons. Yuki was there for him, to shelter and protect him. Shuichi knew it was unfair. Yuki had been through more in his life, and his experiences in America happened when he was so young and had left such deep scars. The writer was the type to let them fester, rather than try to bury them or brush them off like Shuichi did. Compared to the mysterious and troubled man he met in the park that fateful windy night, Yuki seemed to be genuinely happy, and sometimes he even tried to show Shuichi with an especially sweet gesture. Shuichi didn't need these hints, though. He was finely tuned to his partner's mood, and could see how much better he was in the way he sipped coffee or turned the page of a book, could feel it in his kiss when they made love.

Thinking about Yuki wasn't exactly soul searching for Shuichi. He already spent a lot of his time thinking about what Yuki was doing, where he was, and if he was thinking about Shuichi, too. From everything he'd heard, this wasn't how people in mature relationships behaved. Shuichi felt more like a schoolgirl than an adult. Sure they had love, and Shuichi trusted Yuki unquestioningly, but there wasn't a support system for the tough times. He'd just proved it yet again by running to Hiro, and Yuki's accusation that this was Hiro's idea wasn't unfounded, because if he didn't depend on Yuki to tell him what to do, he turned to Hiro. No wonder Yuki didn't want to rely on him to hold up under the weight of his troubled past.

Shuichi could never look at their relationship with such perspective when he was close to Yuki. It also did help that both of their careers continued to skyrocket. Whenever they did get time alone together, neither of them wanted to have deep, meaningful conversations about where each felt like they were in the relationship and where they wanted to go. They were simply comfortable, and had been comfortable for so long that Shuichi thought things might never have changed if he hadn't met Andre and Shane.

He tried to rework the thought in his head to make it less bitter. Being comfortable was good. Meeting Andre and Shane was bad. Except that maybe after this he and Yuki could be happier. They were happy. Shuichi was happy. It felt like there could be more, though. He didn't even know what he was thinking anymore. He didn't have a clear goal for this stunt, and the whole night in contemplation only made him wonder at how rash he was. The only thing that held him on the couch was a gnawing at the back of his brain that there were things he needed to deal with and could only get to on his own.

"Hey, Shuichi? Are you awake? Don't you have work today?"

Shuichi rolled over on the couch and looked up at Tashimi, standing in his socks and boxers. "What time is it?"

"A quarter to eight."

"Ah! I have to go." Shuichi jumped up and dove into his bag for a clean shirt. He tossed aside his sneakers, a jacket, and his picture of Yuki, then stripped and speed dressed. Tashimi picked up the picture.

"Is this your ex?"

"No. Yes, that's him. We're together," Shuichi said, pulling his shoes on. "I'm late. Gotta go." He stuffed his things back in the bag, placing the picture in last.

"Hey, the couch-" Tashimi called, but he was gone.

Shuichi was sprinting before he got out of the apartment building. He looked in both directions down the road, about to dash across, but a red convertible almost mowed him down.

"You're going to be late," his manager yelled out the window. The car behind him laid on the horn while Shuichi jumped in.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to be the first to express my condolences at your recent breakup. Hiroshi came in early today, so I figured you didn't have a ride. You have to be careful, some neighborhoods can be very dangerous-"

"We didn't break up."

"That's not what I heard," K hummed.

"Well, you heard wrong. And if you're going to spread nasty rumors like that, you might want to start looking for a new job."

K slammed on his breaks, throwing Shuichi against his seatbelt. The car behind them switched lanes and the driver flipped him off. K waved his gun threateningly and the driver sped off. Shuichi must have temporarily forgotten who he was talking to, but he wasn't backing down.

"So you're not split up?"

"No," he said firmly. K contemplated him as he put his gun away. Danger averted.

"Good." K started driving again. "Because I was going to strongly urge you to reconsider. Eiri is too good for Bad Luck's image for me to stand for such a rash act."

There was silence for the rest of the drive to the office, which was very short given K's disregard for traffic laws. They were climbing out of the car, still a couple of minutes early, when Shuichi swallowed his pride and spoke.

"I'm staying with my friend for the rest of the week. Do you think you could pick me up on your way in?"

"Of course. Hiroshi lives closer, but I presume since you didn't ask him that you would rather he not know."

"Exactly. Thank you."

"And for the record," K said as they walked inside, "you can't fire me, it's in section five, paragraph two of my contract, so threatening my job isn't an effective scare tactic." K would know, he'd written his own contract and forced them to sign it without a lawyer. At least Shuichi was sure he'd gotten his point across wit the threat, and was relieved that he'd incurred no severe bodily injuries in the process. Thank goodness for seat belts.

Shuichi had made up his mind while he was lying away that he wouldn't tell people he'd moved out, because he and Yuki were still together, just not physically, and it was only temporary.

When Shuichi and K walked into the studio the weren't taken notice of. Hiro was in one corner restringing his guitar and Suguru was in the other, facing the wall and listening to his keyboard through headphones. Shuichi thought he could still hear the echoes of the argument that had sent them to opposite sides of the room to pretend to practice, or maybe it was that their silence was so loud it made his ears ring. This didn't bode well for the work they were supposed to start today on their new album.

"Morning, guys," he said, plastering on a cheerful smile. Neither of them looked up. "I can tell that you're both excited to start working."

Suguru laughed derisively, giving away the fact that he wasn't playing, just angrily punching keys with the sound off. Hiro turned and glared at his back, offended that he'd dare to make noise in his presence.

"Alright," K clapped his hands. "Hiroshi, Fujisaki, obviously this morning's early rehearsal session wasn't enough time for you to work out your differences." They both turned to look at K suspiciously, then jerked their heads away. "You will forthwith pretend that you are band mates and friends while you're in this studio or you will spend every second together until you make up." K dangled a set of handcuffs pulled from God knows where to emphasize his point.

"Fine," Suguru said, taking off his headphones and flopping down dramatically at the work table. Hiro put down his guitar and sat on the other side of the table. Neither of them looked at the other. Shuichi and K sighed and sat down, too.

So," K said, "who's got something to bring to the table? Fujisaki, have you come up with any of those sick beats?" Suguru continues to look at the wall, but shook his head. "Hiroshi, where's our monster guitar?" Hiro drew circles on the table with his finger and said nothing. "Okay Shuichi, you're it. Give these guys some of your heart wrenching poetry to start with." Shuichi laughed and scratched his head. If he was using the turmoil with Yuki as an excuse for not having done the work he intended to do that weekend, though he'd had no reason to push it off for so long, he couldn't hold it against Hiro or Suguru either.

K had no such moral dilemma. He slammed his hands on the table and stood up. "I thought by now you guys would have realized that come to the studio to work. You can't work if you have nothing to work on. That's why we write before we get here. That's IT. None of you leaves this room until this album is written. I'll be outside, so don't think about trying anything if you value your lives. Happy composing." He waved and was gone.

None of them moved from the table or looked at each other for almost an hour. Shuichi didn't think up a single lyric, and he was sure that Hiro and Suguru weren't writing music in their heads, either. He felt intensely awkward being forced into the middle of their fight and was waiting for one of them to make the first move.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Suguru said finally, to no one in particular. "I'll be back."

He was back sooner than he anticipated. Less than a minute after he left he came back through the door again, walking backwards in front of K, who held his trusty assault rifle to Suguru's chest. Hiro jumped up but swallowed his words of protest.

"Is there an album you want me to hear?" Suguru shook his head. "Then get to work!" K shut door again. Shuichi looked between the two of them, both breathing heavily and unsure of what to do now.

"Okay, guys. I don't care if you talk to each other or not, just play something. I'm going to try to write." They didn't move. "Come on! Unless you want to pee in your water bottle and starve to death in here."

"I don't see why we have to put up with this crap," Suguru said.

"We don't have a choice," Shuichi laughed. "We can't fire him. It's in his contract."

Hiro finally broke into a rueful smile and picked up his guitar, which hadn't needed to be restrung, but as he finished and started to tune it he would resist the music taking over his fingers. Suguru went to his keyboard and yanked out the cord for the headphones but didn't turn around or move closer to the guitarist. Shuichi picked up a notebook and stared at the lines while Hiro and Suguru played scales, trying against their musician instincts and habit to not play together. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Constructive reviews are very helpful at this point. Thanks for reading.


	5. Duck for One

I don't own Gravitation or any of the characters, just the plot.

* * *

"That sucked." Shuichi had been watching, and unfortunately listening, to Hiro and Suguru play purposely in opposition to one another all morning. He wasn't making any headway with writing. He had a feeling that the few lines he'd scribbled were taken from the passionate throes of the heroine's heartbreak in Yuki's last book. Mostly he was doodling.

"Well have you got any inspirational lyrics to share with us, oh great leader?" Hiro snapped. He was glaring at Suguru's back on the other side of the room.

"How am I supposed to write with the racket you two are making? Isn't the point to play together?" Shuichi was equally irritable. Suguru remained silent, a true testament to how tightly he was wound, and his playing was terrible, an even grimmer sign of his mood.

"Suguru, stop. Stop!" Suguru let up his relentless torture of the keys. "I can't even think." Shuichi was dying to ask his friends what had happened to have torn them apart not only as a couple but as band mates and friends. It didn't seem like bringing it up would make them more productive, though.

"Hiro, can you play something—I don't know—something good?" Suguru whipped around, offended at Shuichi apparently taking sides. Hiro turned so that he couldn't see his ex and closed his eyes for good measure, determined to rub the moment in Suguru's face.

The guitarist plucked at his strings, and played a little bit of nothing before letting his fingers carry him into one of the first songs he'd written with Suguru a couple of years ago. When he realized what he was playing he thought to stop, but the musician in him finally overrode his brain and simply played.

Shuichi was grateful to hear something familiar and well played. He watched his best friend, who was smiling to himself. Suguru had turned back around and was leaning against his keyboard. Shuichi looked away when he saw a tremor pass through his shoulders. Hiro finished the song and after a moment looked up.

"Thank you," Shuichi said, putting all of his heart into it. "So you haven't forgotten how to play." Hiro shook his head.

"How about you, Suguru?" Shuichi asked. "Have you got anything over there?"

Suguru put his hands to the keys without a word. He hovered there a minute, whatever he was feeling hidden from both of them, and then took a deep breath and began with another song they'd written together. Shuichi looked at his friend, but Hiro wouldn't meet his eyes. The guitarist lifted his instrument and jumped in. Suguru faltered at the intrusion but recovered, and they played out the song together.

Shuichi thought it had never been played better. He was sure when they finished that their eyes would meet, they embrace, and all would be forgiven. He was wrong. After their duet, it was impossible for them to ignore each other, but trying to work together from opposite ends of the room without looking at or speaking to each other was as much as they could manage. Even then there were times when Shuichi thought they were on the verge of yelling at each other there was so much tension, but they would deteriorate into angry, discordant musical battles. The following silence would eventually be broken by the caution, halting beginning again.

After what had to be hours Surugu turned his keyboard around and took out a pen. There was no point to losing what little productive work was coming out of the day. Hiro also got more serious about what he was doing. A few times they sounded really good, but Shuichi wasn't getting any inspiration from the slow mending of his friends' relationship to the point where they could at least work together.

Shuichi tried to stop paying attention to them, but that meant the only other person in the room to focus on was himself. He couldn't feel his butt because he'd been sitting down for so long, but he didn't want to stand. He was exhausted from not sleeping, but he still didn't think he'd even be able to take a cat nap. Never before had he been unable to shut his brain off when he wanted peace. His thoughts were still too jumbled to make sense, and his insides were just as disturbed.

Shuichi paused. No, he didn't feel sick to his stomach. His stomach was rumbling, almost as loud as Hiro's guitar in his ear. He imagined it was already well into the night and they had been locked in the studio all day, guarded by a crazy man with an assault rifle.

"I'm starving," Shuichi said, throwing himself onto the table. Hiro and Suguru stopped playing.

"Have you written anything?" Hiro asked.

"Shuichi shifted to lay on top of his notebook. "I can't write on an empty stomach.

"I hardly think it's harder than playing on an empty stomach, and we haven't had anything to eat, either," Suguru said. He started playing again, but Hiro put his instrument down and sat beside Shuichi at the table, also slumping forward so they were more or less eye to eye.

"How you holding up, buddy?" he said, his face pressed against the table.

"Fine."

"Oh, yeah?"

Hiro pulled out Shuichi's notebook from under his arms. He smirked at the flaming ashtray and the herd of rainclouds taking up most of the page, surrounded and covered by mindless spirals and circles shaped like hearts.

"Still having trouble in paradise?"

Shuichi shook his head. Hiro had the tact not to pry. Shuichi watched his best friend rest his head in his hands and desperately wanted to ask him about Suguru, but couldn't find the words of think of how to do it without alerting the keyboardist. Hiro looked a lot calmer than he had that morning, though. He was almost smiling as he added a few of his own doodles to the page.

Shuichi looked around to find Suguru and jumped when he found the younger man behind him. He didn't look any happier than he had earlier, in fact he looked more sour, but Shuichi could have kissed him because he was holding a bag of potato chips and a bottle of coke.

"Here, if you're really not going to work otherwise." Shuichi didn't need to be invited again. Surugu sat down as well, and Shuichi was the only person who didn't feel incredibly uncomfortable and was even able to think about his stomach.

"You guys want any?" Shuichi said, offering the bag to Hiro with his mouth full.

"Go ahead. I don't care," Suguru said, looking at the wall. Hiro felt obligated to eat after that, though his mouth felt like he'd been chomping sand all morning. Suguru took a swig of Coke and Hiro cursed him, not wanting to drink after him despite his dry throat. It was a ridiculous hand up after everything they'd done together, but it was obvious to Hiro that Suguru no longer felt the same about him and he didn't want to be the one hanging on.

No one said anything until the chips and Coke were gone, and Shuichi suddenly felt all of the awkwardness of the situation.

"You guys sounded great," he said, forcing a laugh. "Do you think you got anything?"

"No." Suguru said.

At the same time Hiro answered, "Maybe."

They looked at each other.

"Maybe." Suguru looked away.

"Great." Shuichi answered. "At this rate, we should be out of here by-"

Suguru stood up. Shuichi, who was sitting closer, saw his upset face before he turned his back on the table. Hiro wanted to stand, too, but made himself stay in the chair. Suguru wanted space.

"Suguru-" Suguru waved over his shoulder. He was practically running to the door. His slim shoulders were trembling again. He slammed the door behind him and Shuichi and Hiro waited to hear him scuffle with K and to be marched back in. After a minute of heavy silence it seemed like that wasn't going to happen. Shuichi looked at Hiro, who looked between him and the door, and then ran out after Suguru.

Hiro smashed the buttons on the elevator, hoping his impatience would result in it going faster. When it opened onto the main lobby he saw Suguru standing just on the other side of the glass doors in the falling dusk.

He didn't think about what to say. He burst onto the street, startling Suguru but not, to his amazement, causing him to turn around and run. He wiped at his nose and tried to compose himself in front of Hiro.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." He was sorry about everything. For pressuring the younger man into a relationship he'd been unsure about, about being his first, about falling in love with him, about not stopping him from leaving, about eating his stupid chips. But all he could manage was I'm sorry.

"It's not your fault." Hiro thought he couldn't be more shocked. Suguru almost smiled at him. He wasn't happy, but he didn't look angry like he had all day, either. "I just—need to get some rest. Let's try harder tomorrow, okay?"

Hiro would try anything with Suguru. He nodded and Suguru turned to walk home.

"Do you—want a ride? Or-" He swallowed hard. "To go get something to eat?"

He was pushing again. Suguru declined more politely than he needed to and Hiro let him go. He walked back to his bike feeling miserable, but he resolved to only let himself wallow until he got home, and then to savor the experience of talking to Suguru again and get started writing to show him he was willing to work together.

Shuichi gave them what he hoped was enough time before he left the studio. He looked around the hall, up and down the stairs and in the elevator lobby but saw no signs of K. He wondered how long ago he'd left. He took the elevator to the main lobby and saw through the glass doors as he stepped out that the sun was just setting. They really had spent all day working, and didn't have much to show for it. He went slowly, his eyes and ears open for Suguru and Hiro so he could avoid them if they were still around, but he didn't see either one.

Shuichi hadn't realized that he didn't have a ride. Tashimi's would take forever to walk to, or he could call a cab, but while he was out he might as well get dinner. He didn't know what in particular he was hungry for, so he walked a few blocks to a strip of restaurants, most of which Yuki had taken him to. He let his hungry stomach lead him to one of his favorites, a small French place where the only lights were from candles. He thought sitting along and eating in the dark would suit his mood.

Without a reservation he had to use his real name with the maitrede. He cringed at the excited shudder of recognition and asked for a private table. He was grateful to be seated at the back of the restaurant. Maybe eating out was a bad idea. His waiter, however, was either more reserved or didn't watch a lot of music television, because he kept his composure while he offered Shuichi the wine list and menu.

Shuichi wasn't sure now why he'd picked a French restaurant. The last time he'd been here the only thing he liked was the dessert. There had been too many other things on his plate distracting him from the fish he ordered, which was only adequate. Yuki ordered duck, which he flatly refused to try.

_Does it taste like chicken?_

_No. It tastes like duck. Just try it._

Shuichi had stubbornly refused like a four year old when Yuki held the duck to his lips. With an irritated sigh Yuki had taken the bite away, and he only warmed up again when they split a creme brulee.

Shuichi ordered the duck and asked for a glass of wine that the chef recommended. There, he could do this on his own, and he could act like a mature adult about it, too. He could _be_ a mature adult.

He dug his shoe toe into the wood floor and tried to keep himself from fidgeting. Okay, so it was hard to sit in a fancy restaurant alone. He was the only table with an occupant of one, and despite it being early for a candlelit dinner most of the tables were full. He stopped looking around when one man across the room caught his eye and tilted his head in a too-friendly manner.

Resigned, he pulled out the notebook with his doodles and turned to a fresh page. He stared glumly at the empty chair across from him and put his pen to the paper with the intention of drawing the chair, but instead he started writing. They weren't exactly lyrics, it was more like a rush of emotions in the form of words that he felt at the absence of Yuki's presence, of any presence. He felt alone, and it had been a long time since he'd ever been alone. He was still on a role when the waiter brought out the wine, and shortly afterwards his duck. Only then did Shuichi put down the pen.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up a knife and fork and closed his eyes to take the first bite of duck. It tasted...like duck. And it was good. He opened his eyes and smiled at the empty chair. A little wine and a little duck and a little writing. What a perfectly lovely evening. The only thing that could make it better was creme brulee, which he ordered when he felt like he'd burst from anymore poultry. He couldn't finish the dessert by himself and gave up before he made himself sick. He didn't feel quite ready to leave, though, and asked for a cup of coffee and to be left alone for a while. Apparently the waiter had recognized him, or was used to pushy customers, and he made no remarks.

Shuichi wrote while his candles burned down in front of him. He filled several pages by the time he'd drunk two cups of coffee and urgently had to use the bathroom. He took his notebook with him and when he came back, feeling greatly relieved and ready to continue, the waiter was seating someone else at his table. The waiter saw him and visibly paled.

"Oh, sir, I'm so sorry. I thought you'd left. I'll get you the next available table. I'm terribly sorry." The couple he was seating watched with interest as the waiter practically got on his knees before Shuichi.

"No, that's fine. I was just going. Enjoy your meal." He nodded to the couple and pulled out a tip for the waiter, which he had to shove in his pocket to get him to take, all the while listening to him apologize. At his insistence, he let the waiter phone him a cab and said he would wait outside to get away from him.

Back on the street with the sun completely down now, Shuichi was tempted to just walk. He already thought he might be worrying Tashimi by staying out so late. He wasn't in a hurry to get back to the couch, though. Maybe he could call up Hiro and go out for a few drinks.

After their day in the studio Shuichi didn't think Hiro would want to drink. He was never the kind to drown his sorrows. Shuichi tried to cheer himself up as he waited for the cab. He didn't need to drink. He'd go home and shower, then try to get something concrete down to take into the office in the morning. He wasn't going to think about Yuki all night and feel sorry for himself for the situation he'd gotten into.

However, a part of him was already tired of being a mature adult about the situation. He only hoped that soon that last vestige of his immature self would go away.

* * *

I'm sorry, I don't know how I reach the end of a chapter and nothing earth shattering has happened. For all you readers, I'm updating more frequently than I normally would, so I hope you're not bored to death at the pace the story is moving at. This story is much more about what goes on inside the characters' heads, and complicated things like relationships and identity always take a long time to figure out. Hang in there.


End file.
